Lucy
by Lachriel
Summary: When faced with a difficult decision, Snape talks to Lucy. Lucy is not entirely what she seems. In fact, she's hardly at all what she seems. Written in response to pixi-chan's challenge.


AN: This fic was written in response to pixi-chan's challenge. I was quite thrilled with the idea. Thank you. Disclaimer: I do not own Snape. Lucy is my own creation.  
  
With a frustrated sigh, Severus Snape sat heavily in his overstuffed armchair in front of a roaring fire. It had been a long day, or rather week. Voldemort was plotting to kill a small Muggle village, but something just hadn't seemed right. After a bit of snooping around and careful questioning, he'd found absolutely nothing. It was pure luck that he'd discovered the test.  
  
One of his fellow Death-eaters had blundered. They'd all received instructions personally. It wasn't that this was never done, just that it wasn't done often. If it was, they weren't to discuss their instructions with anyone. Each Death-eater had been told that a different city would be destroyed. Unfortunately, the one that was really going to be killed was his own. If this were not the case he could send the Ministry to one of the other villages and he'd be safe to spy for a while longer.  
  
He sighed again, listlessly wondering what he would do. Of course, Severus knew exactly what he should do. He should tell Dumbledore. However, if aurors flocked to his own assigned village, it would be the end. It would mean the end of his days spying on Voldemort, definitely. If he got away it would be the end of his days walking around a free man. He'd have to go into hiding. And if they caught him. . . well, hopefully it would be the end of his life. Otherwise. . . . He'd rather not thing about that.  
  
There was the sound of a child laughing happily and small feet running lightly over the cold stones of the corridor beyond his study door. The door never made a sound, but the footsteps slowed as they entered the room.  
  
"Lucy." He spoke without turning to look, because he knew very well that she was the only child, the only one, who would be in his home. "I should have known you'd be here."  
  
"Of course," she said, her voice a smile. The girl wore her dark hair in pigtails tied with white ribbons to match her frilly white party dress and white stockings. Her little white shoes made little clicking noises on the stone floor, and then muffled ones on the thin hearth rug. Lucy looked to be about four or five years old and was dragging a string on the ground behind her. Following the string was a little black kitten that stared intently at the quivering tip, pouncing fiercely upon it whenever it caught up.  
  
"You know I like to come when you think about me." With that, the little girl climbed up into Snape's lap. He just sighed again, a little calmer now, and held her. "My, what an assortment of sighs you have." He had to smile a little. It was always a bit surprising to hear Lucy talk the way she did.  
  
The kitten, indignant at being left on the floor, scrambled up onto a stack of books. From there he mostly managed to get onto the arm of the chair and Lucy picked him up, stroking his soft fur gently. The kitten had shocking green eyes. They were just like Potter's. It wouldn't have entirely shocked Severus to hear some impertinent comment in the boy's voice come from the tiny creature. Instead, it only looked at him and mewed.  
  
"Do you know why his eyes are green, Sevie?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. Then I don't have to explain it. Run away kitten." Lucy tied the string into a neat bow around the kitten's neck and the animal leaped off her lap and into the fireplace. It didn't burn, merely disappeared. It was as if the disturbing little black feline had never existed, which in fact, it might not have. "Now then, tell me why his eyes were green."  
  
Severus nodded. "Potter. Somehow, when my demise seems imminent, I always end up thinking of him."  
  
"Why?" It wasn't that she didn't know. Rather it was that she wanted Severus to say it aloud so that he would realize it.  
  
"I don't know, Lucy."  
  
"Yes you do." Severus remained silent. "Well, I'll tell you then, shall I? It's hope."  
  
"Hope?" Even as he mentally denied it, Snape could feel the statement ring true.  
  
"Yes, hope. You think that Harry, unskilled, only half-trained, with a total disregard for safety and rules, has escaped Voldemort purely through luck. Therefore, it makes perfect sense that you should survive. Its hope that you find in him, odd as it seems to you."  
  
"I suppose you're right."  
  
"I usually am."  
  
"Impudent child."  
  
"Hardly." She smiled up at him, and he smiled back a little. A comfortable silence fell between them, sealing both away in their separate thoughts. At length Lucy reached over to a small table and picked up Snape's letter opener. It was in fact a lovely jeweled dagger, but with magic he'd found little use for more mundane weapons.  
  
Severus was so lost in thought that he hardly noticed Lucy absentmindedly playing with the blade. She tilted it back and forth to catch his reflection in the shiny metal. Then she tested the edge and found it to be quite sharp. Delighted, Lucy rhythmically and systematically drove the dagger into her leg. She grinned and stared intently as if fascinated by the idea of metal piercing her skin.  
  
"Stop that!" Severus snatched the blade away hardly a moment after she'd begun.  
  
"Why, Sevie? I'm not making a mess or anything, and it doesn't hurt." He flung the dagger away, hearing it skitter and slide across stone. Anxious, Severus examined the girl's leg. There was no blood, and in fact no evidence at all of her actions. No mark marred the smooth, pale skin. "Told you," she stated smugly.  
  
"It was disturbing, anyhow."  
  
"Ah. Well, then I'm sorry."  
  
"You shouldn't do things like that," he continued, hugging the small girl tightly. "It breaks down your illusion."  
  
"You know who I am anyhow." Snape didn't respond to that. There was no need. She understood. And the silence descended again briefly.  
  
"Do you know what you'll do?"  
  
"I think so - the right thing, instead of the safe."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I'm afraid though."  
  
"You won't be when the time comes. You'll face it as bravely as any Gryffindor." She grinned as his nose wrinkled at the analogy.  
  
"And how do you know?"  
  
"Aside from the fact that I know 'most everything?" He deigned not to answer that. "It's because you call me Lucy."  
  
"What on earth has that got to do with anything?"  
  
"Do you remember the first time I came?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You were four and a half. Your parents were yelling again and you were afraid. You hid in your room and I came to talk to you."  
  
"I remember."  
  
"Do you remember when you asked me my name?"  
  
"You said I could call you Lucy, or..." He trailed off, trying to remember the other name.  
  
"'Lucy, or Kali. It's up to you.' That's what I said."  
  
"And I picked Lucy. I still don't see what it matters."  
  
"Humans instinctively, subconsciously, know the meaning of names. They can tell if a name is good or bad, which meaning they like better. It makes the name sound better to them. You picked Lucy over Kali because of the meanings. It made me sad that at four and a half you would."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Kali means 'Dark Goddess' is why. That's the way most young people think of me - dark, dangerous, and all powerful. Lucy means 'light.' It wasn't fair that you'd been made to see me that way. You were ready even then."  
  
"I see."  
  
"No, you don't really. Do you know why I stayed the age you were then?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Because you think it's all your fault. You think that I'm pure and innocent and sweet, and that it's all your fault. That's why you're so willing to die. You thought it was your fault when you were four that your parents fought. You think it's your fault now that you can never bring back the people you killed as a Death-eater."  
  
"Is that why? I'd wondered." His voice was colder now, not wanting to discuss this. So many deaths lay heavily on his conscience. He had killed so many people as a Death-eater. Lucy wriggled out of his lap and stood before him, an angry expression on her face.  
  
"No. You killed. There's no denying it. But they're at peace and you're trying to atone for it. Leave it at that." Of course, he couldn't, but Lucy knew that already. "No one can bring the dead back," she added in a softer tone. "Not even me. Not even my sister. No one should even try."  
  
He was quiet a moment before he spoke again. "Will I die if I do this?"  
  
"I don't know, Sevie. Not even I know the future completely." He nodded somberly. "If you knew you would die, would you still do it?"  
  
"Yes," he said softly.  
  
"If you knew you would live?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"There's one thing I do know." He looked up attentively at the small girl before him.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"If you do die, I'll be there waiting for you." She stood on tip-toe, and kissed his cheek, blushing in a way that four-year-olds simply didn't. Then silently, she turned and walked away, fading as she went until there was simply nothing left.  
  
Severus smiled. "Thank you, Lucy. . . Death." 


End file.
